queen mab speech mercutio

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Queen Mab, Romeo and Juliet

Who is queen mab.

Mab is the queen of the fairies, a figure deeply rooted in English folklore. She is not a character in Shakespeare’s plays but is famous within his works because she is mentioned in Romeo and Juliet , as the subject of a speech by Romeo’s friend, Mercutio.

In English folklore Queen Mab is a mischief-making fairy who, unlike most other fairies, is not malevolent, but although she may be annoying, she makes mischief in a friendly, playful way most of the time. She is mentioned by several other writers from Michael Drayton in his mock-epic poem about fairies, Nymphidia , to Ben Jonson, Robert Herrick, John Milton, and later, the romantic poet, Shelley, in his major poem, Queen Mab .

Shakespeare took this tradition of Mab, Queen of the fairies, and evolved her to become Titania, the fairy queen as a major character in A Midsummer Night’s Dream .

Queen Mab in Romeo & Juliet

In Romeo and Juliet , Romeo is making himself miserable over a young woman, Rosaline , whom he has seen and, without having ever spoken to her, and she not even knowing of his existence, has fallen in love with her. He’s been paralysed by a common teenage affliction – lovesickness – and he can’t shake it off, even though his friends are making fun of him. He and his friends have intercepted a messenger with a list of people to be invited to a party at the Capulet house. Romeo, a Montague – a family feuding with the Capulets – has not been invited. Romeo sees that Rosaline’s name is on the list and he and his friends decide to gatecrash the party.

As they approach Capulet’s house Romeo’s friends continue to make fun of him about his moping, lovesick behaviour, brought on by his obsession with Rosaline and the dreams he is having about her. Mercutio tells him that the mischief-making Queen Mab has been infecting his dreams and that’s the cause of his affliction. “Oh, then,” he says, “I see Queen Mab hath been with you,” and he launches into a description of the legendary Queen Mab and how she operates to affect people’s dreams.

According to Mercutio Queen Mab is a tiny fairy who travels in an empty hazelnut shell, which she uses as a carriage, with spider’s legs for wheel spokes, driven by a grey-coated gnat and drawn by a team of tiny atoms. In her coach, she rides over the lips and noses of sleepers and fills their dreams with wild fantasies. If she’s in a foul mood she’s quite capable of creating venereal diseases for women who are dreaming of soft kisses. She can also induce innocent young virgins to have lascivious dreams.

But Queen Mab is very very small, in relation to the human world,  and everything around her is tiny. Mercutio makes this point throughout. He’s suggesting that Romeo is being an idiot – all teenage boys experience this lovesickness and it’s nothing. It’s a minor issue, not even worth commenting on really. Rosaline is irrelevant. And of course, that proves to be true, as Romeo is very soon to meet Juliet, and to have the same response as he’s had to Rosaline. But in this case the young woman responds and it develops into something significant, and into a full-blown tragedy.

Queen Mab does not have a dramatic role in Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, which could have functioned perfectly effectively without Mercutio’s speech, but it serves to underline Romeo’s immaturity in the context of relationships– a typical characteristic in a teenage boy. During the course of the play Romeo faces several challenges and experiences that force him to grow up, and we see that by the time of his death he has matured significantly.

Queen Mab Speech

Mercutio’s speech about Queen Mab is delivered in Act 1, Scene 4 of Romeo & Juliet. Here is Shakespeare’s original text of the Queen Mab speech:

O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.  She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes  In shape no bigger than an agate-stone  On the fore-finger of an alderman,  Drawn with a team of little atomies  Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep;  Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs,  The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,  The traces of the smallest spider’s web,  The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams,  Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film,  Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,  Not so big as a round little worm  Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid;  Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut  Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,  Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.  And in this state she gallops night by night  Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;  O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on court’sies straight,  O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees,  O’er ladies ‘ lips, who straight on kisses dream,  Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,  Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:  Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose,  And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;  And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail  Tickling a parson’s nose as a’ lies asleep,  Then dreams, he of another benefice:  Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck,  And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,  Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,  Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon  Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two  And sleeps again. This is that very Mab  That plats the manes of horses in the night,  And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,  Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:  This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,  That presses them and learns them first to bear,  Making them women of good carriage.

Watch the Queen Mab Speech in Context:

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Romeo and Juliet - Act 1, scene 4

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Act 1, scene 4.

Romeo and Benvolio approach the Capulets’ party with their friend Mercutio and others, wearing the disguises customarily donned by “maskers.” Romeo is anxious because of an ominous dream. Mercutio mocks him with a speech about a dream-giving queen of fairies.

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ROMEO AND JULIET

A monologue from the play by william shakespeare.

MERCUTIO: O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Over men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; Her traces, of the smallest spider web; Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice. Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage. This is she!

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A ct 1, S cene 4

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Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others

What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without a apology?

The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But let them measure us by what they will; We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound.

I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in: A visor for a visor! what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs.

A torch for me: let wantons light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase; I'll be a candle-holder, and look on. The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!

Nay, that's not so.

I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits.

And we mean well in going to this mask; But 'tis no wit to go.

Why, may one ask?

I dream'd a dream to-night.

And so did I.

Well, what was yours?

That dreamers often lie.

In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.

O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Not so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight, O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, Then dreams, he of another benefice: Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she--

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of nothing.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.

Strike, drum. Exeunt

Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet Shakescleare Translation

Romeo and Juliet Translation Act 1, Scene 4

ROMEO, MERCUTIO, and BENVOLIO enter wearing party masks. Five other men wearing party masks and carrying torches enter with them.

What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology?

What excuse will we make? Or should we enter without apology?

The date is out of such prolixity. We’ll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper, Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter for our entrance. But let them measure us by what they will. We’ll measure them a measure and be gone.

It’s no longer fashionable to talk that much. We’re not going to announce our entrance with some guy blindfolded, dressed up as Cupid, and carrying a toy bow in order to frighten the ladies like some scarecrow. Nor will we introduce ourselves with a memorized speech. They can judge us however they want. We’ll dance for one dance, and then get out of there.

Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling. Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Give me a torch. I don’t feel like dancing. Since I’m sad, I might as well carry the light.

Everything you need for every book you read.

Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

No, sweet Romeo, you have to dance.

Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes With nimble soles. I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

Not me, believe me. You’ve got on dancing shoes with nimble soles. But my soul is made of lead so heavy that it anchors me to the ground and I can’t move.

You are a lover. Borrow Cupid’s wings And soar with them above a common bound.

You’re a lover. Borrow Cupid’s wings and use them to soar higher than the average man.

I am too sore enpiercèd with his shaft To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.

I’ve been too strongly pierced by his arrow to soar. My wounded heart won’t let me escape my dull sadness. I am sinking under love’s heavy burden.

And to sink in it, should you burthen love— Too great oppression for a tender thing.

If you sink in love , then you’re burdening it. You’re putting too much weight on such a tender thing.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

Is love really so tender? To me it seems too rough, too rude, too unruly, and it pricks like a thorn.

If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.— Give me a case to put my visage in! A visor for a visor. —What care I What curious eye doth cote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

If love is rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love when it pricks you, and you’ll beat love down. Give me a mask to put over my face. A mask to cover that mask I call my face. What do I care if someone sees my flaws? Let the this mask, with its dark eyebrows, blush for me.

Come, knock and enter. And no sooner in But every man betake him to his legs.

Come on, let’s knock and go inside. And once inside, let’s all start dancing.

A torch for me. Let wantons light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels. For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase, I’ll be a candle holder, and look on. The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done.

Give me a torch to carry. Let those with light hearts dance. There’s an old proverb that fits me perfectly: I’ll hold a torch and watch. The game looks like fun, but I’m done with it.

Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word. If thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from the mire, Or—save your reverence—love, wherein thou stick’st Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!

Come on, “ dun ” is the color of a timid mouse. You’re being as timid as a patrolman on night duty. If you’re a stick stuck in the mud, we’ll pull you out—pardon me for being rude— out of the love in which you’re stuck up to your ears. Come on, we’re wasting daylight.

Nay, that’s not so.

No, that’s wrong—it’s night.

I mean, sir, in delay. We waste our lights in vain, like lights by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits.

I mean, sir, that by delaying we’re wasting our torches, which is like wasting the sunshine during the day. Show your good judgment by taking what I say the way I mean it, which is five times more important than literally trusting your five senses.

And we mean well in going to this mask, But ’tis no wit to go.

We mean well by going to this party, but it’s not smart of us to go.

Why, may one ask?

Why, may I ask?

I dreamt a dream tonight.

I dreamed a dream last night.

And so did I.

Well, what was yours?

What was your dream?

That dreamers often lie.

I dreamed that dreamers often lie.

In bed asleep while they do dream things true.

They lie in bed while dreaming about true things.

Oh, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.

Oh, then I see Queen Mab has visited you.

Queen Mab, what’s she?

Queen Mab? Who’s she?

She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Over men’s noses as they lie asleep. Her wagon spokes made of long spinners’ legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, Her traces of the smallest spider’s web, Her collars of the moonshine’s watery beams, Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small gray-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid. Her chariot is an empty hazelnut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love; On courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight; O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees; O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit. And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail Tickling a parson’s nose as he lies asleep, Then he dreams of another benefice. Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plaits the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage. This is she—

She’s the fairies’ midwife, and is no bigger than the stone on the ring of a city councilman. She rides her carriage, which is pulled by tiny little creatures, over men’s noses as they lie sleeping. The wheel spokes of her carriage are made of spiders’ legs; its cover is made of grasshopper wings; and its harnesses are made of the smallest spiderwebs. The horse collars are made from moonbeams, while her whip is a single cobweb attached to a cricket bone. Her wagon driver is a tiny gnat wearing a gray coat that is not even half as large as a little round worm that comes from the finger of a lazy young girl.  Her carriage is an empty hazelnut, made by a squirrel and an old worm, which have been the fairies’ carriage-builders for countless years.  With this magnificent carriage she rides each night through the brains of lovers, who then dream about love. She rides across courtiers’ knees, who then dream about bowing and curtsying. She rides over lawyers’ fingers, who then dream about their fees. She rides over ladies’ lips, and they immediately dream of kisses. But Queen Mab often puts blisters on their lips because their breath smells of candy, which angers her. Sometimes she rides over a courtier’s nose, and he dreams of sniffing out a way to make some money. Sometimes she tickles a priest’s nose with the tail of pig given as a tithe to the church, and he dreams of getting a high-paid church position. Sometimes she drives over a soldier’s neck, and he dreams of cutting the throats of foreigners, of breaking through fortifications, of ambushes, of the finest-quality Spanish swords, and of huge mugs of alcohol before suddenly waking, frightened, by the sound of drums in his ears. Then he says a prayer or two and goes back to sleep. Mab is the one who tangles the hair of horses’ manes at night and then hardens the tangles in the foul, dirty hairs; tangles which, if you undo them, bring bad luck. Mab is the hag who gives dreams of sex to virgins and teaches them how to bear the weight of a lover and to bear a child. She’s the one—

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk’st of nothing.

Calm down, calm down! Mercutio, be calm. You’re talking about nothing.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being angered, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

True. I’m talking about dreams, which are produced by a brain that’s doing nothing. Dreams are born of no more than empty fantasy, which lack substance like air, and are more unpredictable than the wind, which can blow on the frozen north and then suddenly get angry and blow south.

This wind you talk of, blows us from ourselves. Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

This wind you’re talking about is blowing us off course. Dinner is already over. We’re going to get there too late.

I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night’s revels, and expire the term Of a despisèd life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But he that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail. On, lusty gentlemen.

I fear we’re going to arrive too early. I have a feeling this party tonight is fated to set in motion some awful destiny that will result in my own untimely death. But whoever’s in charge of my fate can steer me where they want. Let’s go, my lusty friends!

Strike, drum.

Bang the drum!

March about the stage and exit.

They march around the stage and exit.

StageMilk / Monologues Unpacked / Mercutio Monologue (Act 1, Scene 4)

Mercutio Monologue (Act 1, Scene 4)

Romeo, with his closest friends Mercutio and Benvolio are on their way to the house of Capulet to attend a masked party. Neither Romeo or Benvolio are invited and intend to sneak in, which is an incredibly dangerous move considering the recent flare up in the feud between the Montagues and Capulets.

After spending the first act in a state of unrequited love for Rosaline, a somewhat depressed Romeo is very reluctant to go. Benvolio spends his opening scenes with Romeo, persuading him to attend the party so that he may “examine other Beauties” and “forget to think” of Rosaline. When his attempts seem to fail: Enter Mercutio; cousin to Prince Escalus of Verona. Mercutio is of royal blood.

Mercutio, unlike his friends, is invited to the party and so you can imagine is very keen to go: “Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance”! Mercutio gently taunts Romeo, provoking him about his mood and his ideas of ‘love’: “You are a lover, borrow Cupid’s wings and soar with them above a common bound”! Finally Romeo confesses that he thinks it is unwise to attend the party because of a dream he had…

To really grasp the context of this monologue, I think it’s important to understand why Mercutio starts speaking in the first place.

Taken as a whole, the monologue may appear like a wildly impulsive rant. If we break it down, however, we can learn that although wild and certainly spontaneous, it is also a carefully constructed response to Romeo’s belief about the truth of dreams.

Romeo : I dreamt a dream tonight.

Mercutio : And so did I.

Romeo : Well, what was yours?

Mercutio : That dreamers often lie.

Romeo : In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.

Mercutio : O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you…

But before we get stuck in, let’s talk about breaking down the thoughts first.

Thought Breakdown

If we break down the monologue into smaller beats and thoughts, we are able to gain real clarity on what Mercutio is saying and find key indicators into what state of mind he is in.

For this monologue, look at how many thought changes are noted. What clue does the give you about Mercutio’s character and his state of mind?

It was only through breaking it down into bite size pieces that I began to see more clearly how deftly Mercutio is able to move from one thought to another.

(You’ll note the Space between “And sleeps again” and “This is that very Mab”. This is deliberate as it is the only internal full stop in the monologue. It is perhaps an indication of the wild nature of Mercutio’s dazzling thought pattern by this point. He has barely finished one sentence before leaping onto the next idea.)

Thought Change=  / Beat Change=  Space

O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you: /

She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, / Drawn with a team of little atomies Over men’s noses as they lie asleep: /

Her wagon spokes made of long spinners’ legs, / The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers, / Her traces, of the smallest spider web, / Her collars, of the moonshine’s wat’ry beams, / Her whip, of cricket’s bone, the lash, of film; /

Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, / Not half so big as a round little worm, / Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid; /

Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, / Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, / Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. /

And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love; /

O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight; / O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees; / O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream, / Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. /

Sometimes she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; / And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail Tickling a parson’s nose as ‘a lies asleep, / Then dreams he of another benefice. /

Sometimes she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck, / And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, / Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, / Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. /

This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes. /

This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: /

This is she! /

Modern Translation

Here’s Mercutio’s monologue again, translated into modern english to further your understanding of the text.

Oh, now I see Queen Mab has been with you:

She is the midwife of fairies and she comes In shape, no bigger than a stone made of agate On the forefinger of a councilman, Pulled by a team of atom sized creatures Across men’s noses as they lie asleep:

Her wagon’s spokes are made of long spiders legs, The wagon cover is made of grasshoppers wings, Her straps are made of the smallest spiders web, Her creature’s collar straps are made of pale watery moonbeams, Her whip is made from the bone a cricket and a transparent thread,

Her wagon driver is a small bug wearing a grey coat, Not even half the size of a small round worm, Bred from the fingers of a lazy maid.

Her carriage is an empty hazel nut, Made by the carpenter squirrel or old larvae insect, For as long as anyone can remember they’ve been the coach makers for fairies.

And in this royal coach she gallops, every night, Through the brains of lovers and makes them dream of love.

Over people that go to royal court, who dream about curtsying, Over lawyers fingers who straight away dream about making money, Over ladies lips, who straight away dream about kissing, But often the angry Mab infects their lips with blisters, Because their breath has been polluted by confectionary.

Sometimes she gallops across the nose of a man who attends a royal court, And then he dreams of seeking out some one who will pay a fee for his services. And sometimes she comes with the tail of a pig, gifted to the Church, Tickling the nose of a clergyman as he lies asleep, Then he dreams of an high-paying Church position.

Sometimes she drives over a soldiers neck, And then he dreams of cutting enemy throats, Of holes in fortifications, ambushes, Spanish blades, Making toasts, drinking from an extremely deep glass, and then shortly, She drums in his ear, and immediately he wakes in shock, And being so scared, he prays once or twice Then falls asleep again.

This is that very same Mab That plaits the manes of horses in the night, And stiffens the elven-made locks in gross filthy hairs, Which once untangled, brings a lot of bad fortune.

This is that evil spirit, when virgins lie down on their backs, Causes them sexual nightmares and teaches them how to bear the weight of a lover, Making them good at bearing children:

This is she-

Unfamiliar Words/Phrases

Many of the ideas, words and phrases possess double meanings. Usually sexual with dark undertones. Examining them closely reveals aspects about Mercutio’s views on humanity, particularly women.

Queen Mab: A tiny creature. In later literature, she was known as Queen of the fairies.

Agate stone: An ornamental stone, like quartz.

Alderman: Wealthy or influential member of a local council.

Atomies : Creatures as small as atoms.

Spinners : Spiders

Cover : The cover of the wagon.

Traces : The straps.

Collar : The collar of the creature that is connected by the straps to the wagon.

Lash of film : Thin, transparent cord. Perhaps like a spiders web.

Gnat : A small bug or two winged fly, like a mosquito.

Lazy finger of a maid : Proverbially, Maid worms would breed in the fingers of lazy maids. Sexual connotation: Lazy women using their fingers.

Joiner : Carpenter. One who joins wood together.

Old grub : Old larvae-like insect that bores holes.

Courtiers : One who attends royal court.

Suit : A deal that one may earn money from.

Tithe-pig : A pig offering made to the Church as part of the tithe (one tenth of one’s annual earnings to support the Church).

Sweatmeats : Confectionary or candy. Sexual connotation: The sweet meat between ones legs.

Parson : A member of the clergy, a vicar.

Benefice : A Church position that entitles the recipient to income and property.

Breaches : Holes in fortifications.

Ambuscadoes : Ambushes.

Healths : Toasts, as in to ‘cheers’ some one.

Anon : Presently.

Elflocks : Tangles of hair, superstitiously believed to be tangled by elves.

Foul sluttish hairs : Sexual connotation: Referring to region around female genitalia.

Hag: Evil spirit in the form of a woman.

Learns: Teaches.

Queen Mab is entirely Shakespeare’s invention and therefore the invention of Mercutio in the moment. He is discovering all of the thoughts and images as he says them. This is the essence of his quick wit.

The monologue is tricky because of its density of imagery and double meanings. But that is what also makes it extraordinarily enjoyable to watch or perform. I would encourage an actor to focus on one thought at a time and let the piece grow and build on itself.

Some experts have regarded Mercutio as the character that Shakespeare was writing in preparation for Hamlet. Some have noted that Shakespeare had to kill Mercutio off otherwise his energy and bravado very well may take over the rest of the play!

On the surface it may appear that Mercutio is simply a ranting lunatic. There have certainly been many portrayals of him in this light. While every interpretation is valid, for me, a maniac who rants for the sake of ranting misses the mark. I’d bet my life on it that Shakespeare wasn’t letting a character just rant for the sake of it. If you look at the context scene as a whole, there’s a very specific point that this mercurial character is making.

Mercutio uses Queen Mab as the vehicle that delivers to sleeping people, their deepest desires in the form of dreams. But all dreams, perhaps being too good to be true, must come to an end. No matter the dreamer; everyone must eventually wake to discover that they are neither a valiant hero, rich courtiers, or kissing beautiful women, but snivelling wrecks, poor and diseased or simply themselves.

Mercutio only stops himself when Romeo can’t take any more and interjects, trying to calm him down, saying: “Peace, peace good Mercutio peace. Thou talk’st of nothing. To which Mercutio replies: “True, I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy”.

In essence, Mercutio’s point is that dreams mean nothing – they aren’t reality. A point that he becomes desperately intent on making. We later find out that Romeo fears going to the party because he’s afraid that if he does, that he might die. Which, in a sense, turns out to be true.

About the Author

Damien Strouthos is an actor, writer and director. A WAAPA graduate from 2012, over the past decade he has worked professionally for Bell Shakespeare, Belvoir Theatre Company and Sydney Theatre Company. Some of his Film and Television credits include, I am Woman (2019), Frayed ABC (2018) and Wonderland (Channel 10 (2013)). Damien's greatest passion is the process of creating and telling stories.

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Mercutio Monologues

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Not to criticize Shakespeare , but the play Romeo and Juliet should feature a little less Friar Lawrence  and a little more Mercutio. You could argue that this funny, furious character should have gotten his very own play, but instead, he gets killed off (spoiler!) at the beginning of Act Three! Still, we can rejoice in the few excellent Mercutio moments and monologues.

The Queen Mab Monologue

In Mercutio's best and lengthiest monologue, often called "The Queen Mab Speech," the jovial supporting character chides Romeo , claiming that he has been visited by a fairy queen, one that makes men desire things best left unattained. In Romeo's case, he is still pining for Rosaline. Little does he realize that he will soon fall for Juliet .

When performing the following monologue , actors often begin very playfully, but as the speech continues, touching upon corruption and war, Mercutio becomes more frenzied and intense.

MERCUTIO: O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Over men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; Her traces, of the smallest spider web; Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice. Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage. This is she! (Romeo interrupts, and then the monologue concludes:) True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

Mercutio Describes Tybalt

In this scene, Mercutio explains the personality and combat techniques of Tybalt, Juliet's deadly cousin . By the end of the speech, Romeo walks in, and Mercutio begins to chastise the young man.

MERCUTIO: More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hai! The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, their bones! Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gypsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Mercutio and Benvolio

In this next scene, Mercutio demonstrates his genius for mockery. Everything he complains about regarding his friend Benvolio's character does not apply to the young man. Benvolio is agreeable and good-natured throughout the play. Mercutio is the one most likely to pick a quarrel for no good reason! Some might say that Mercutio is actually describing himself.

MERCUTIO: Thou art like one of those fellows that when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword upon the table and says 'God send me no need of thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. BENVOLIO: Am I like such a fellow? MERCUTIO: Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. BENVOLIO: And what to? MERCUTIO: Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

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